1
He sleeps in Jesus — peaceful rest —
No mortal strife invades his breast;
No pain, nor sin, nor woe, nor care,
Can reach the silent slumberer there.
2
He lived his Saviour to adore,
And meekly all his sufferings bore:
He loved, and all resigned to God,
Nor murmured at His chastening rod.
3
"Does earth attract thee here?" they cried;
The dying Christian thus replied,
While pointing upward to the sky,
"My treasure is laid up on high."
4
He sleeps in Jesus — soon to rise,
When the last trump shall rend the skies;
Then burst the fetters of the tomb,
To wake in full, immortal bloom.
5
He sleeps in Jesus — cease thy grief;
Let this afford thee sweet relief,
That, freed from death's triumphant reign,
In heaven he will live again.
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